Giant Hunters
by cuttingmoon57
Summary: What do you do when you're outgunned, outclassed, and out of hope? You go hunting, of course.
1. Pebble

This is a side project I've been writing on the Wizard101central forums, based around a PvP-centric group called the Knights Who Say Ni (Monty Python references for the win). Anyway, it's proven rather popular so far, so I figured I should post it here and see if it holds the same weight.

This isn't replacing Exseed, for the record. Enjoy!

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_What do you do when your outgunned, outclassed, and out of hope? _

_You go hunting, of course._

**Giant Hunters**

By Psylent Night

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**Chapter One: Pebble**

His foot came down, snapping several twigs and the stillness of the night. Moonlight filtered down from the canopy above and cast a gleam across his metallic rod, which sometimes knocked away an impeding branch. Stealth was on the backburner. He moved haphazardly, with one driving purpose. To escape for now. To run, and think of a plan.

A dull thump and its violent tremor threw him to the ground, mouth meeting a clump of moist dirt. He scrambled to his feet, forgoing the staff, and tumbled into a nearby trench carved by erosion and time.

The thumps ceased long enough for his heartbeat to take their place. Louder and louder. The night's return to tranquility only bolstered the unbearable pounding. Bashing against his ribs. Forcing blood to arms and legs that screamed for rest. A call too great to ignore any longer.

A snap of his fingers produced a hovering flame, to give him warmth and some direction in the darkness.

And give away his position to the towering Cyclops overhead.

"And then what happened!"

"Well the Cyclops takes his hammer and gets a _HUGE _critical—"

"Mom, please make them stop."

"Caleb, Daniel. Put them down and eat your breakfast."

The young boys sighed, the former letting his two marionettes drop to the floor beside his chair. Their mother whispered her thanks as they returned to nibbling on their eggs and toast, before setting her plate.

Their father gave his input from behind the morning paper. "Once you boys finish your meal, I'll play with you, alright?" His incentive helped them locate newfound room in their stomachs, but failed to stir the attention of the boy between them.

It was a mystery—he'd considered on countless occasions—how his firstborn child could inherit so many of his mother's defining features: her lithe athletic frame, raven black hair doused with ashen accents, skin that'd been given one too many kisses by the sun.

"What's with these stupid things?"

And none of her concern, passion, or tact. The man found these missing traits especially poignant, for as his wife used them to hide and combat the world-weary gleam in her emerald eyes, Hunter Ashleaf had no such cushion for his own to fall back on. They revealed a teenager in name alone, broken and aged by circumstances the man had yet to deduce.

"I've seen them all around Wizard City lately. Apparently they're the new fad." His mother commented, seeing her son hold up his brothers' puppets before his impassive face. "I don't see the appeal, but they're cheap enough and easy to use."

Hunter conceded a shrug, and lapsed into silence for the remainder of the meal. As he usually did, his parents had learned to expect. Though they remembered a time where he was as bright and exuberant as his younger brothers. Remembered, and silently yearned for.

Hunter's time corralling said brothers from bed this morning placed him off schedule, and within the minute he was smoothing out his crimson smock, donning a burlap sack, and speeding out the door with a customary wave.

Warm rays of sunlight greeted him as he stepped out onto Unicorn Way proper, something the school of pyromancy dictated he should find enjoyable. In all honesty, he did. It was soothing, comforting even. But the fanatical pomp and pizzazz his fellow fire wizards demonstrated about every little thing was taxing at best. He'd learned better long ago. Too much spark, too much flame would always come back to burn you.

Fairies leaped from flowering shrubbery lining the cobblestone streets, dogging and weaving through morning traffic he'd managed to squeeze into. Trees wreathed in snaking ivy stood taciturn and healthy, and above-ground roots pulsed like arteries, even as he trekked through Unicorn Park. His dabbling in Life magic often had him wondering if the ecosystem was comprised of separate plants or if all were mere offshoots of the Grandfather Tree, whose canopy encompassed the neighborhood even this far out.

His inquiry and steps ceased in unison, as his eyes fell on the Arena a few hundred feet to his left.

Climbing, elaborate stonework met to form a massive domed ceiling, from what he could see beyond the gate. A network of smaller, similarly-styled buildings surrounded a sprawling fortress to conjoin into the largest structural entity in Wizard City short of Ravenwood.

And the largest eyesore, in his opinion.

"Reminiscing?"

Hunter shifted his eyes, but didn't turn his head at the voice. It was enough to catch a figure in his periphery, his legs dangling off the large stone beneath him.

He looked as though he'd just come from a battle. Light blue and yellow arena armor—a chainmail smock that rose and descended into plated shoulder guards, hands, and legs—held none of the glisten that Hunter had seen on so many others. It was well taken care of, evidenced by the pressed ankle-length cape, but battle scarred neverless.

Sean Starbright. A Diviner, as he recalled. They hadn't talked much, even if they were peers year-wise. "What do you mean?"

"The Arena." He elaborated matter-of-factly, fingering a pebble in his hands. "You miss it, don't you? That look in your eyes didn't lie."

"No. I don't." Hunter's interest within and without dissipated. "I don't belong in the arena."

"You mean you don't belong in what it's become."

Hunter's impassive facade twitched at that, something the glint in Sean's eyes didn't miss. The Pyromancer quickly steeled himself again, turned back around, and began walking off. "I'm leaving. See you later."

"Come watch a match with me." The request was so simple and sudden that it brought Hunter to a stop. "Just one. I'll make it worth your time."

"I can't. I'm busy."

Sean quirked a prodding eyebrow. "Name one thing you're doing today that's more important than spending time with me."

"…I have class."

"My case remains."

Hunter couldn't find the will or logic to counter. "Just lead the way."

The Pyromancer's intuition had been spot on about the Diviner, for as they neared the imposing wrought iron gate, the stationed guards remarked about him leaving just half an hour ago. Hunter chose not to dwell on the possibility that he'd been waiting for him, though his apprehension about the entire situation did grow.

He hadn't been here in two years, after all, and it'd showed on his face like nothing else. That moat they'd crossed to arrive at the grounds proper wasn't there before. The floral majesty of Unicorn Way yielded to hardened, listless stone, even before they reached the coliseum buildings. Marble statues lining the path held outstretched weapons to form a makeshift hallway for them. All served to boost the grandiose air of an impregnable bastion in his mind.

Everything within continued to support that idea: the crimson-hued grand foyer with dozens of branching hallways and doors, the swarms of roaming participants and armed guards, the extravagant singles arena. Everything.

Except for the doubles section.

To call it barren was an injustice. Lifeless. Yes…lifeless was the operable word. Even with his extended absence, Hunter could feel the distinct lack of vitality. The sconces seemed a little dimmer, the receptionist and ticket man's smiles were a little more forced, and the crowds were a lot thinner. Particularly of people around his and Sean's titles. The Pyromancer gathered from the Diviner's lingering pace that he was intentionally showing him this.

Another series of hallways placed them in one of the smaller arenas where they procured seats in the fifth row, finding a terrible vantage point in anything lower. That he had options in the lower rows at all spoke volumes, and Hunter couldn't find it in himself to attribute this widespread vacancy to the morning timeslot. The five hundred capacity bowl should have been bursting at its seams, especially with citizen attendance.

"Different, isn't it." Sean faced forward as he spoke, his previous mirth absent. He squeezed the pebble between his fingers.

"I suppose." Hunter's response masked his actual agreement. He was still wary about why he'd been brought here.

But gained a clue as four wizards heeded the referee's call and started towards the arena's center. The leftmost pair seemed familiar to him, if only for the magus and adept gear they wore. He'd probably passed them in a hall at some point. The only other defining feature he could pick out from this distance was the strange hesitance in their steps. Dreadful, somewhat unwilling.

One of their opponents seemed a polar opposite. Gold plated shoulders raised in arrogance. Eyes distant, as if looking past an assured victory. His partner stood a step behind him, equally haughty with none of the grandeur or imposing aura. Aesthetically, they were as different as night and day.

Hunter recognized the setup immediately, and his widened eyes escaped Sean's notice.

Just as he had assumed, and now confirmed. It was still going on.

And it was more effective than ever, if the match he'd just witnessed was any indication. The magus/adept team had been shown absolutely no mercy. The Frost Giant's frigid hammer had smashed through their shields before they'd had time to worry about an offensive. Any hesitation in their hearts and minds before became consumed by mindless terror. A drive to escape for now. To run, and abandon any thoughts of a plan.

The Legendary Thaumaturge made sure hope was abandoned with it. Shrieking bolts of arctic energy and crunching ice overpowered cries for help, boosted by a stream of blades from his assistant. Hunter watched the spectators in front of him. A few cheered on the aggressors, but most cringed and shielded their eyes.

Hunter himself sat motionless at the end of it all, when the referee's whistle had seen enough. Battered bodies and broken spirits somehow managed to drag themselves to their opponents. Sportsmanship ruled over anger, and the magus and adept's trembling hands extended in congratulation.

He stared for a moment, then as if on a whim, turned around and walked off in silence. Not even a glance of recognition. The Thaumaturge said nothing, and in effect had said everything.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Does this upset you, Hunter?" Sean's voice was calm, but obviously restrained fury. "Something should be done to stop this, right?"

Hunter's whisper turned harsh. "That something doesn't _exist_, Sean. It hasn't for the past two years, and it won't for any after. Guys like us can't slay 'giants'." Both dissolved into silence again, as spectators began to filter out. The defeated team remained as still as them, falling to their knees in exhaustion and grief. The Thaumaturge found the stairs leading out of the arena into the stands proper. "If this is all you brought me here for, I'm leaving."

The Pyromancer remained still despite the remark, in part to Sean's next question. "Oh? 'Giants', huh? That's a good name. Tell me then, Hunter. What does it take to slay a giant?"

His vocal inflection made it sound like he knew the answer. Still, Hunter humored him. "I don't know. Another giant?"

Sean shook his head, and his smirk returned. He raised his hand, his pebble wedged between his index finger and thumb. "Sometimes, all you need is a pebble."

Before Hunter could tell what happened, Sean's arm swung forward in a blurry arc, and the stone pinged against the forehead of the Legend's helmet. His head flew up to find the perpetrator, seeing Sean with outstretched arm, grinning like a mad man. Hunter knew Sean had plenty of time to hide, but he didn't. He wanted him to know.

The Diviner and Thaumaturge locked eyes, and the latter readied his sword. Many turned as steel rasped against scabbard, but a calming hand from his assistant drove the rising tension away. Both sauntered out with withering interest, assured that had the situation escalated fully, they would have emerged victorious. Hunter let his clenched fists relax, and released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Sean hadn't even seemed afraid, but his voice was melancholy and distant again. "As it stands right now, nothing will change. Because no one is willing to throw the pebble."

Hunter said nothing, but deep in the recesses of his mind, he knew he was guilty of that charge.

He watched Sean slip a hand into a pouch around his waist and retrieve a strand of folded parchment. A note. And Hunter suspected this was the purpose of all this, as he held out his hand to receive it.

"Tomorrow afternoon. Follow these directions." The Diviner slipped passed him, heading up the staircase towards the door. "I'll show you something good."

"And what if I don't come?"

The Pyromancer could feel Sean's smirk without seeing it. "You will."

Hunter waited until he was the sole remaining person in the arena, and a fresh batch of contestants and audience members filed in. Then, he climbed the staircase, step by lingering step, letting the flood of incoming spectators part for him as he moved upstream. Wanting to prove Sean wrong for his own satisfaction.

But unable to toss the crumpled parchment in the waste bin he passed.


	2. Persuasion

_Here's Chapter 2. Just playing catch up for the most part. If you're ever on central in the S & P section, feel free to leave a comment. Always helps. Enjoy!_

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**Chapter Two: Persuasion**

Of the things Hunter Ashleaf admitted pride in, self control rested comfortably at the top. His peers couldn't recall a time when he wasn't calm and aloof, and neither could he. Patience defined him, one could say.

And yet here he was. On the edge of his seat, waiting for the bell to drown out Professor Wu's voice and send him along.

Today and much of yesterday passed by slowly after he and Sean parted ways. Time in Professor Flamea's class abandoned haste entirely. Hunter couldn't recall anything about her lecture, the evening's return home, or the hour he decided to doze off. It was all a sluggish blur, with only the note holding any clarity.

Even now, resolve alone glued him to his desk. A composure that few peers could match had become so shaken by one piece of parchment. But as the morning inched by, he'd settled on a plan. He would quell it. Sean would show him his idea, he would reject it, and he could finally rid himself of this fruitless anticipation.

His chance arrived minutes later, as blaring chimes nudged primary and secondary Theurgists into motion.

One primary caught him in the hallway, apparently annoyed at his new-found impatience. "What's with you lately?" She asked.

Hunter hadn't known Jordan Silverstone for long. Strange, considering they sat side by side and how vocal her opinions were. It wasn't as if he ignored her. In fact, he enjoyed the countless tales of her victories and defeats in the singles arena. They allowed him to see past what cascading, sunflower hair and loving, cerulean eyes portrayed. A fighter. And a good one at that.

Eavesdropping ballooned into mutual conversation as Hunter gradually opened up, much to the chagrin of the male Theurgists. Hunter didn't blame them; she was quite the beauty. But if they ever asked for his help, he'd turn them down. The mere mention of the arena made her eyes glisten in a way no man could ever recreate.

"What do you mean?" Her eyes narrowed, and he knew his ploy at innocence was a sinking ship. "Oh, I don't know. Boredom probably."

"So you mean you're free to come dueling with me?" There was that eye glisten.

"I can't. I'm busy."

"And what could you possibly have today that's more important than—?"

"What's with you people and that question! Are my priorities not importa—" Hunter stopped, seeing her surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get annoyed. I'm just…I'm busy, alright?"

She conceded a shrug at length, only because he wouldn't explain anyway. They parted with an agreeable wave, and soon Hunter moved through the building's double doors. Guilt over the outburst almost persuaded him into heading back and telling her everything, but he decided against it. What Sean had in store was a complete mystery. One he intended to unravel alone.

Finding that mystery's location was unusually easy, considering the Diviner's cryptic behavior. The note routed him across Ravenwood and around the colossal girth of the Grandfather Tree. A riot of color assaulted him as he worked through the throngs of students.

Traversing a river with no paddle sounded like an easier task. Accidentally brushing past the fair skinned, prosperous students seemed like a criminal offense, from the way they acted. Opposite of them, those of lower standing thought nothing of it past the apology wave. In his mind, the canyon of privilege between the two classes was the real offense.

He put the thought off as he reached his destination. A building Hunter had never entered before.

The activities center. An odd, four story fusion of Marleybonian structural design and Wizard City artistic flair. Socials and extracurricular events commonly occupied the lower halls, and school-sanctioned clubs dominated the upper floors. Hunter's feet pedaled up creaking stairs to the top level, where he found a rough wooden door near the hallway's end. Tattered paper lay nailed to it, bearing the same metal helmet insignia overlapping a crossing sword and stave that his parchment did. All beneath the door's number, 108.

Conversation and sunlight spilled from its slim crack. He rapped his knuckles against the door. The room went silent, followed by footsteps, and an annoyed frown soured Hunter's face as the door creaked open.

"Told you he would come." Bubbles floated from Sean's corncob pipe. Loose pants, a shirt, and a long coat draped across his shoulders replaced the previous day's armor. "You're a bit early, though."

The Fire Wizard immediately regretted keeping the note, but admitted his defeat and pushed past the Diviner into the room. "Well then let's just get this over—"

Hunter assumed he'd be alone with Sean and his idea. Instead, five figures seated around a lacquered round table quirked their eyebrows.

Two were new to him. A reserved girl with brown hair, hands folded, regarded him studiously. What he assumed was a second female—the helmet and mask concealed defining features—sat beside her. He recognized the other two immediately. Morgan Day's shock of lavender hair and welcoming smile brightened the room more than the windows could manage. Calamity Weaver, another Life, beheld him for a moment, then returned to rapid strokes with her quill pen.

And the last. Diego Santiago Quariquez Ramirez III, his broad form swathed in the deepest of crimson robes. A reserved grin always stretched across the Duelmaster's snout in ads, but here he seemed rigid and unamused. The teen felt pressed, the kind of gravity only one high above your station could produce.

"I assume this is your final guest." The stallion's voice teetered between bewitching and irritation. "I have little time for games, Mr. Starbright."

"Yes, he's the last." Sean met Hunter's fearful glance with a 'play-along' wink. And the Pyromancer obeyed for now, taking the last empty chair next to Morgan, but he would have questions later.

The room fell quiet, except for Sean's pipe. An exquisitely carved toy, Hunter noticed, but still a toy. No more potent than a bubble wand. "I'll just come out with it then, Duelmaster. Your arena is terrible."

Hunter coughed awkwardly, gasping for air. Calamity dropped her quill pen. The masked girl remained calm, as did the brown haired girl. And Morgan restrained the urge to knock him out and hijack the discussion.

Diego had no reaction other than "Oh, it is?"

"Indeed." Sean began to pace, and Hunter could picture him twirling a cane. "It's quite obvious, actually. Those who play fairly are crushed. Abusers and charlatan's feast like wild dogs, and if you choose to join them, no one will raise a finger to stop you." The Diviner descended to a stern whisper. "Those with power get to make the rules. Rules that benefit only themselves. Sounds pretty terrible to me."

Again, despite everyone's preconceptions, Diego seemed reserved at the accusations. Methodical and calculating. Like all great duelists. "I'm aware of you and Ms. Day's disdain for high-tier _behavior_, Mr. Starbright. But I have little interest in your crusade."

"Oh, but you should have interest. Because it affects you." Sean chided.

He turned to Calamity with a nod, who returned the gesture. She gathered her papers together, and adjusted her glasses. "The number of adept, magus, and master class participants have been halved over the past two years. Inversely, grandmaster and legendary wizards have seen a moderate increase."

She slid one of her forms across the table, which he appraised warily as she continued. "This may sound advantageous, but the data proves otherwise. We've studied a few records, and your logs should confirm the rest. Spectators rarely go to watch high tiers."

That conjured surprise out of the unicorn, even if still reserved. He'd noticed this in sales reports. "And why do you think that is?"

"Because it's not interesting." The brown haired girl said. Her name was on the tip of Hunter's tongue as Morgan whispered Destiny Bluethorn. "Nearly half of top tier matches are a race to cast the biggest spell; nothing like they were in the past." She honed in on Diego. "Ask yourself. Let's say….five. Of the five greatest battles you've seen, who were the participants?"

"Master, magus, adept, grandmaster…and magus…" Hunter couldn't fathom how Diego recalled them so quickly.

"You've said it yourself right there, Duelmaster." Morgan said. "The middle tier is the most profitable section of your arena. But lately, they have not been coming, and what we're '_crusading'_against is the cause."

"These…giants, as you called them earlier." Morgan nodded at his answer. "Yes, I suppose this mid-tier famine has not escaped my sight…or my wallet." Diego propped his elbows on the table. "But you tell me things I am already aware of. If you have no _solution_, then my time has been wasted."

"We do have a solution." Sean's stopped just beside the unicorn. "Giants don't sell because the outcome is always the same. There's no suspense or excitement anymore. But what if I said we had a way to defeat one?"

That was a bluff, Hunter scoffed. Mid-levels and legendaries were on completely different planes. But the gleam in Sean's eyes said otherwise, as did Morgan, Calamity, and Destiny's unwavering confidence.

Diego couldn't believe it either. "Surely you jest?"

"Who knows…?" It was clear to Hunter that some sort of smiling fiend possessed Sean. His grin couldn't stretch so far otherwise. "Would you like to find out?"

The unicorn studied him, finding no guile, before pushing back his chair and rising. He would humor him, at the least. "You have my interest. What would you like from me?"

"A doubles reservation. We'll handle everything else, and find an opponent." Morgan answered.

Diego snorted, then his hooves clopped across the floorboards to the door. When his gloved hand found the knob, his voice fell to an authoritative low.

"Let me make this clear. My only interest is seeing my doubles arena profitable again, and your letter guaranteed that. But only a fool invests blindly. Sell two hundred seats by the end of the week, and you will have your match."

They nodded, before realizing his back was turned to them. He registered their silence as understanding anyway. "Who should I reserve this spot for?"

Sean glanced to Destiny, Destiny to the masked girl, the mask to Calamity, Calamity to Morgan.

And Morgan to Hunter, with a knowing smile. "The Giant Hunters."

Diego nodded one last time, and departed with a soft click of the door. Hunter took note of the motion's silence given the man's wide, sinewy frame. Because when the man's steps escaped earshot, Hunter's temper flared like a spark on dry tinder. "Where do I even begin with any of this!"

"Feel free to start wherever." Destiny chuckled.

"Alright well how about that entire conversation with the _Duelmaster_, let alone that you got him out of his office? And then not only promising a packed stadium, but that you'd _beat a high-tier in a duel_!" Hunter's head whipped to Morgan. "And what's with that 'Giant Hunters' thing? Is that what this is? Some stupid clan?"

"Not a clan." Destiny corrected. "A movement."

"One that's been growing for some time." Calamity tacked on.

"And one that could use any help it can get." Morgan finished.

The pyromancer looked around to see all stares fixated on him. All except Sean, continuing to supply bubbles through the pipe. Hunter didn't know how to respond to the girls' statements and, as if grasping for a foothold, could only manage. "What…what are all of you doing?"

The question wasn't pointed, but Sean answered. As it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Throwing the pebble."

Being at a loss for words seemed to be Hunter's trade for the day. The phrase echoed through his mind, quelling any response for the first few seconds.

These people really were serious. Dead serious. And by the glint in their eyes, honest as well.

But it did more than match the one Jordan held about dueling. It proved that there had to be something to all this. Because from what he observed of Calamity and Morgan in class, they were kindhearted but rational girls. Not the type to dedicate themselves to a worthless cause.

Eventually, he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I'm…I'm sorry Sean. I can't do this for you. I just…can't. I promised not to fight again."

"I expected as much." The Diviner said with an easy shrug. "I'll tell you what though. Stick around for a little while, at least through our first project, then make your decision. If it's still no, I won't bother you again."

Hunter returned a grateful nod, but an epiphany suddenly struck him. "Project. That reminds me. How in the world are you going to sell off two hundred tickets by the end of the week?"

That smiling fiend was either more powerful than Hunter assumed, or the thing had peers willing to assist him. Every visible face contorted into something distinctly Cheshire as Calamity rose from her seat, unhitched the fastener of a dusty storage bin in the corner.

And held up a rabbit costume.


	3. Ensnare

_A/N: Yeah sorry about this taking so long. I forget to upload chapters here sometimes. Anyway, enjoy!_

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**Chapter Three: Ensnare**

Lazy swirls of steam curled as Hunter sunk deeper into his scalding bath. Flamestone—a self heating mineral native to Firecat Alley—rested at the tub's far end, casting a ruddy glow over the water. His mental fatigue leeched into its soapy consistency, and hands and feet blistered from years past found relief.

He'd normally start the day like this, musing on the past and the future. But to his disdain, Sean Starbright had snatched even this small piece of paradise.

Seven pebbles smacking against his bedroom window awakened the pyromancer hours before. At two in the morning, no less. He'd chosen to ignore it, but Sean's threat to continue finally propelled him from his house.

With hurried footfalls, they'd swept through the shadows of Unicorn Way at twilight, avoiding patrolling guards and passing through a desolate Commons before meeting a new face at the school gates.

Spiritshadow, as she introduced herself, and Hunter thought it was a suitable codename. A free soul bound by no one, present in body yet always just out of reach. Faded color stained her hands, from what he saw as they passed streetlamps. Her steps held a cadence all their own. A luminescent grace beyond the limits of mere practice, delicate as the brushstrokes of a master painter.

Steps they followed to the Scarecrow Dorms, a popular dorm among more aspiring and dedicated students, if only for its quality. Hunter wondered about the large scroll he'd been handed, as well as the legions of rope, hooks, and fasteners spilling from Sean's burlap sack.

He regretted his curiosity as Sean's grappling hook arced through the air onto the roof. "…Can we not just take the stairs?"

"And miss the opportunity to climb a building?"

Sean at least gave him the decency of going second. He tugged the rope for assurance, then tied the scroll to his backpack. His ease in climbing gave Hunter some hope, but he knew the confidence wouldn't transfer. Diviners spent their lives with the sky, but fire burned on the ground.

He would think that his affinity for flame would calm his rope burn, but it stung more than he anticipated. Full minutes passed at times where Hunter would remain stationary, suspended in the air by a grip strong enough to cramp his hands. Other times, a passing lantern from the school watch would draw near, and he'd wedge himself into secluded niches for cover.

The quivering boy finally took his place atop the roof with Sean. If he'd known Hunter was afraid of heights, he might have reconsidered.

The duo set to work on preparing the scroll, a banner Hunter couldn't read in the darkness, while Spiritshadow guided from the ground to center it properly over the edge.

And just like that, their escapade dismissed, and Hunter returned home with nothing but confusion for his time. The lack of any explanation gave him an uneasy feeling, one the bathwater couldn't distract him from. As if on cue, morning light pouring through the window seemed to whisper his answer. Head to school and find out.

Within the half hour, he dressed and traversed the same faded cobblestones, this time with textbooks. His path led by Scarecrow dorms, and try as he might, shaking off his curiosity proved a futile endeavor. Besides, a peak at their handiwork couldn't hurt.

As usual, he was wrong. The banner cascaded down the side, stopping above the porch overhang. Pale blues, deep cobalts, and frosty whites decorated the colossal Frost Giant emblazoned over the tapestry's thin fabric, sledgehammer plummeting towards two frightened wizards. The giant's strange discoloration caught Hunter's eye, though. Pale peach skin in place of light blue. Chocolate brown hair where there should be aged ivory. And the face seemed familiar…

"You don't have to fear them anymore..." A whirl of marigold at his side followed the voice, which read the script at the bottom. "What's that supposed to mean?" Jordan Silverstone finished.

Hunter shrugged, and they walked off towards class in a comfortable silence.

But the uneasy feeling from the morning returned. The banner was a masterpiece—the thick crowd of gazing students affirmed it—but wasn't this sort of vague propaganda wasting time? Diego's deadline cut off today, and so far as he knew, Sean's group had an unexplained rabbit costume, twenty five tickets, and this new banner to show for it. How were they supposed to clear the rest?

He meant to petition Morgan and Calamity for the answer, but both girls were absent from Professor Wu's class. And neither made a habit of missing classes. That was Hunter's first tip that something was off.

His second came when class dismissed well before the bell sounded, but dissuaded as Wu mentioned the monthly assembly. The students birthed a collective groan as they filed out, and though he kept his cool, Hunter agreed with the sentiment. These meetings were rarely productive. Guest speakers prattled about uninteresting drivel, faculty discussed schedule changes. Sometimes clubs advertised at the end, but most didn't feel the need to.

Half the school seemed crammed inside the high-ceilinged auditorium, a dim space whose unnecessary splendor fell short only of Fireglobe Theater. Thanks in part to generous donations from wealthy families.

Wu's class found seats a stone's throw from the stage. A distinguished Russell Terrier Marleybonian gave a history presentation on his home world, someone lambasted Talos usage in the arena. As Hunter predicted, the meeting followed its tried and true process.

And then Samantha Summershade hopped out in a rabbit costume.

All chatter ceased, like a spirit of death washed over the auditorium. Faces froze in a mixture of shock and discomfort that couldn't believe what they were seeing.

She was not alone. One by one, they followed her lead: Morgan Day, Calamity Weaver, Destiny Bluethorn. And the last, an enigma. Multiple burns hissed and smoked on his costume's fur, methodically placed to produce a damaged look without compromising the outfit itself. A charred mask shielded his face, and Jordan noted its similarity to the odd Frost Giant on the banner.

"We would like to make a public service announcement." The room's acoustics bounced Samantha's voice to the farthest reaches. She paused for a moment, calming herself, and Hunter could have sworn a depressing violin began to strum in the background.

"Our group has seen several students become involved in dangerous activities recently, and while we are concerned, we would like to direct your attention to an equally pressing issue." She stepped forward from the line of rabbits. "Including myself, you see five bunnies here. Each of these bunnies has in some way been affected by the same illness. Team arena abuse."

Jordan quirked an eyebrow as Hunter leaned forward, cupping his face in his hands.

"You must realize, wizards. All of you are powerful role models. For two years, we bunnies have watched arena abuse." She gestured back to Morgan, Calamity, and Destiny. "Many of us have seen how it deteriorates one's health, and have resisted the temptation to try it ourselves. But did you know, one out of every five bunnies succumbs to the pressure?" She shook her head. "And the results are anything but pretty."

The masked rabbit moved to stand beside Samantha, a forced limp in his step. When he arrived, Samantha braced him from tumbling, and supported his frame like a soldier to a wounded comrade.

She leaned in close, still projecting her voice. "You have given in before, have you not?" He nodded. "Tell us. What happened to you? Why do you look like this?"

"I…I…It's hard to explain." His free paw rose to massage the temples on his costume head, and his voice struggled to stay even. "I don't remember when I started, but I haven't been able to break free since. It's consumed my entire life. Then today while I was team abusing, the strangest thing happened. A flaming meteor fell down from the sky." The masked bunny managed a weak chuckle. "I knew it was retribution for what I had done. I guess my habit finally caught up to me."

A number of gasps sounded from the audience, and Hunter sank lower at their naivety. But mocking laughter lifted his attention again, and he glanced far behind him. Someone seemed to be pushing up towards the stage, and his speed said he was not amused with the performance.

Samantha nodded, and faced the audience again. Even seeing the person approaching, she resigned to finishing. "And there you have it. We ask…no, we implore you. The next time you choose to abuse, think of who you are influencing. Think of the bunnies—"

"What is the meaning of this!?"

Seeing a Thaumaturge aflame with rage was ironically humorous, as stifled laughs from audience members affirmed. Most were confused, as Hunter was. But reserved smirks on the rabbits' faces showed they'd been expecting this.

"Whatever do you mean?" Morgan asked.

"You know _exactly_ what I mean, you ingrate!"

"Hey now, watch that language." Destiny chided, wagging a patronizing finger.

The Ice wizard looked close to popping a vessel. "I bet it was you five, wasn't it!? That banner over the dorms, and the mask on this one." He stormed to the damaged bunny and ripped the mask off with one fluid motion. "These were intentionally created to mock my appearance, weren't they!?"

Sean's revealed smirk seemed to answer yes. But while everyone was stirring at the revelation, Hunter's mind was soaring back to that day. The day Sean convinced him to attend the match. And he finally realized why that banner, the mask, and this angry teen seemed so familiar.

He was _that_ Thaumaturge. The Legend from the match.

Sean composed himself. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Karic. My comrades and I are here for the rabbits."

"I have no interest in your games!" He roared.

"Surely I can convince you into just one? A friendly team duel perhaps?"

The statement silenced the masses, and in Hunter's mind clicked like a spring-loaded trap, which described the situation perfectly. But who that trap ensnared still worried the Fire wizard.

Though the Thaumaturge took the bait. Sean remained composed as Karic's armored hand squeezed his bare one in spite, face leaning forward to whisper. "I let your little pebble go before, but this time you will not escape my wrath. I will _crush_ you." When they finished shaking hands, the Legend stalked off the stage without a word, cold air stinging those he passed.

And as Morgan peered towards the back, she noticed he did not leave alone. A figure she could not see but knew quite well followed him out ahead of a few others.

Their exit signaled the remainder of the auditorium, whose occupants blazed with conversation. And if the troubled whisperings Hunter heard on his way out told him anything, they'd found their opponent and sold their two hundred tickets in the process. A few of which Jordan placed orders for.

Hunter wished he could mimic her enthusiasm for all this, but as he skipped a trip to the clubroom and returned straight home, his efforts found little profit. They had just stepped on dangerous territory, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to be around when it collapsed under them. Nothing Sean mentioned to date proved they could do it. Conquer a high-low tier team. A feat he boasted proudly of, but none before had ever accomplished.

Hunter decided that night, the moon high above him as his witness. It was all absolute rubbish, and he would not have a part of it.

Jordan Silverstone had her say the following morning. "Get out of bed, Hunter."

She shoved his body, a broken scream preceding his plummet to the floor. Lack of sleep delayed his response. "How….wha...Jordan!? How did you get in my house!?"

"Your mom let me in. Nice lady. Don't know how she had a son like you."

He ignored the remark. "…Okay…._why_ are you in my house?"

"You're going to your friends' match today." She cut him off as he opened his mouth to protest. "End of story, and don't play dumb. I saw you yesterday in the auditorium trying to hide. It's obvious that you know them."

"But—" He started.

"Look, I don't know what your relationship is with them, or what they're trying to do." She said. "But you blew me off earlier this week. You owe me a match, and I'm choosing this."

Hunter knew he'd been soundly defeated and discarded thoughts of retaliation. He raced through the morning rituals, and soon they were rushing towards the arena, with the pyromancer ignoring the thumbs up and knowing wink from his father on the way out.

Arena crowds proved a much tougher obstacle than the visit with Sean, especially as they neared the doubles wing. If Jordan hadn't purchased preemptive tickets, he doubted they'd have seats now. Two tournament officials perched on viewing platforms, peering down like falcons on the hunt. Waves of color from spectator's outfits churned in the open air, bowl-shaped stadium. Two hundred couldn't supply this scene. There had to be three hundred…no, four hundred minimum.

After a few minutes and from opposite tunnels, Hunter saw the competitors emerge. But he wasn't captivated by the fully varnished Legendary Thaumaturge and his assistant.

Morgan Day's entrance captured the stadium like the first glimpse of sunrise on the horizon. Bathed in ivory arena gear from the neck down, her metallic rod almost gleaming in her radiance. But for all her angelic white could provide, it did not compare to the cold focus on her face.

Sean's armor looked more battle scarred than before, with a helmet crafted more for intimidation than protection. He led the procession just behind Morgan, and waved a sizable flag around. Across its royal blue hue, a fully plated knight bore a sinister pike eager to skewer. His cape fluttered behind as the stallion beneath him reared back, its mouth ajar in defiance at those who would see its rider harmed.

An obvious Spiritshadow creation from its detail and finesse. At times when the Storm Wizard held it still, Hunter could read the two words across it. _Pro Regnum_.

Destiny, Calamity, and the masked girl followed them out, but Hunter could tell before Morgan and Sean advanced to the center.

This first battle would belong to them.

Karic's sardonic laugh feigned curiosity. "What are you supposed to be? Knights?"

"Yes, that's the general idea. Good observation there." Sean returned evenly. But behind his subdued façade, the Diviner clamored for battle. Pulsing streamers danced around him. An eager hand brandished his Zafarian hookblade.

Karic assumed his stance, drawing his own glaive. Teeth gnashing as the referee's arm rose. The audience descended into a stagnant quiet. Morgan split her feet, and returned Sean's nod. Hunter's breath stopped at his lips, and an anxious tremor overcame his hands. The pause drew on for an eternity.

Then, the referee's arm sliced down, and a voice boomed through the stadium.

"Begin!"


	4. War

_And number four. Hope you guys are enjoying so far!_

* * *

**Chapter Four: War**

Fifteen seconds. The moment the referee's signal blares, all participants are granted fifteen seconds to plan through their course of action, make last minute adjustments to their decks, and pray to Bartleby that should victory not shine upon them, they could at least leave the war grounds with their limbs still attached.

Caring nothing for such ceremony, Karic opted for the former two, his firm gaze shifting between his equipment and opponents. His partner did likewise.

Sean, however, chose the most unlikely route. Starting a conversation. "Do you mind if I ask you a question, Karic?"

The Thaumaturge's face hardened, and his prolonged silence didn't deter the Diviner. "What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore…and then run?" Karic and his partner watched Sean take a few practices swings, before shrugging. "Maybe it just sags like a heavy load."

He paused, raising his sword again. Sunlight glanced off its metal, catching his furious eyes just before the referee's whistle blared.

"Or does it explode?"

Everything happened in two seconds. Karic's shadow stretched as a screeching call rattled his eardrums. A searing column of sunlight descended to the left onto his partner, violent photons taking advantage of his lack of protective gear. The column dissipated as soon as it appeared, and kicked up a billowing cloud of dust.

Karic could see three figures as he peered through. One crumpling to the ground, one standing over his body, and one floating above them both. Pockets of dust cleared, inch by inch.

Revealing his downed partner, skin blistered and crimson, pupils rolled back in unconsciousness. Revealing the topmost figure, a Seraphim, floating on heron-like wings. Claymore pointed to the sky in request for the holy light of righteousness.

And between them both, the deadly, streamlined form of Morgan Day, looking towards her next prey.

The moment Karic took a step backwards, the Seraph blinked from existence and Sean burst into motion, his floating pips following his charge.

To Sean's surprise, the Ice prepared for the headlong rush. His glaive flew up from the bottom in a wobbly arc, meeting Sean's bisecting slice in a spray of sparks. The weapons ricocheted off each other, each combatant reeling back for a moment.

Then, both stepped forward again. Karic pressed the attack this time, stabbing out to pierce Sean's chest. The Diviner's sword came back across to knock it away. The Legend followed his sword's momentum into a haphazard spin, then sent several slashes out.

Sean backed up as needed, swiping his blade back and forth to pick off the attacks. He measured his steps carefully, though, and took note of Karic's frequent overextension. If sharpened metal wasn't bearing down on him, Sean may have laughed. A Legendary Wizard, Arena Captain, and such shoddy swordplay to show for it.

He took advantage of Karic's last overhead chop. He thrust his sword up, the claw atop catching the glaive. Then, he worked with gravity to force the sword down, locking the weapon between the claw and the ground. Karic saw Sean's smile for a moment.

Before a blast of myth energy slammed into his helmet and shoulder. The force propelled him into the air; his body rotating to glimpse Morgan's Arcane Staff leveled at his previous position.

He hit the earth with a messy clatter, rolling to a stop. The sound sparked something in the audience, Hunter noticed. Mouths parted in surprise all around him. Jordan's eyes held that all familiar glisten, but he noticed the slim up-curve of her lips first.

Sean and Morgan watched their opponent rise. A slim trail of blood descended his cheek, and his eyes seemed crazed as he pulled out a jagged machete on his holster. Neither liked the number of pulsing pips around him. Or that his flashing Ice symbol produced an iceblade above his head.

The Diviner dashed in as Karic's left hand started a second symbol, while Morgan entrenched her stance. Sean ate up the distance between, and drew his sword back as he reached him. Preparing to bisect Karic's spellsign before it finished.

Instantly, Sean's body froze: arms, legs, torso. His sword's momentum didn't even peter out; one moment it whistled through the air, and the next, its stillness matched the statues of Cyclops Lane. A stun shield unveiled before him.

The Storm Wizard had predicted more blading there. As it was, the Freeze spell did not impede Karic's machete from piercing Sean's forearm and wrenching his transfixed body to the dirt.

Karic planted his sword into the ground to lock Sean's arm. Then, his boot slammed down onto the Diviner's helmet, which dented under the force. Several more kicks found his chainmail-clad stomach. Some in rapid series, others heavy and flavored with malice.

The trail of pips around Morgan seemed to flare with her anger.

Those same pips, silent concentration, and a bursting life emblem birthed a warp in space, out of which charged a hulking creature, autumn leaves dancing on the displaced wind behind him. Earthen grime layered arms thicker than streetlamps and shoulders as wide as she was tall. Broad hooves rocked the earth as they touched down. Hands scarred from a lifetime of battle tested the oak-hewn longbow strung by taut vine.

The Centaur's belittling gaze captured Karic and the new tower shield circling him. His jeer resounded as he twisted his grungy sole into Sean's helmet. "Go ahead and try! That won't kill at all—"

Suddenly, light cast onto the side of his face from below. He whipped his head down to find the prone Diviner. His raised finger tracing a Myth symbol.

Sean's voice filled the quiet left by his consumed pips. "How about now?"

The earth beneath erupted into showers of dirt and rock as fissures pried open, spewing vents of subterranean air and climbing spires of blunt stone. At the epicenter, fierce aftershocks gobbled up Karic's tower shield, and hundreds of shrapnel-like stones leapt from the ground to gun down his blades.

Morgan, with all her distance, could not rise above a knee from the far-reaching clamoring of the ground. Even so, she didn't waste the opening Sean gave her. On her call, the Centaur's forelegs reared up, and the bowstring stretched. She glimpsed a figure tumbling from the earthquake's dust cloud, and seeing a blade through his forearm eliminated all her reservations.

Her second call let the arrow fly; the bowstring's pop making a shockwave that blew her over. The arrowhead screamed through the air so fast that Hunter could not see its path. He heard only a deafening twang, and then the dust cloud scattered in every direction as wood and plant matter did the same.

Morgan's attention flew to Sean, cancelling thoughts of sending a fairy his way. She would need to get rid of the machete first. The Diviner's face contorted as she yanked the blade and tossed it over her shoulder, and she had to sit on his arm to keep it still and curb some of the bleeding.

She started on the fairy again when two roars broke her concentration. The first stemmed from the battered but standing Karic, and preceded the second.

The Frost Giant's head bellowed as the remaining thousands of floating ice shards converged into its lower body. Spiritshadow's banner didn't hold a candle to the real thing. Its wide back obscured an entire section of the stands from Morgan's view, and the crystalline ice of its hammer gleamed as it obscured the sun.

Blizzards fell as that hammer came down. A wave of cryonic energy smashed into Morgan and Sean, eclipsing the ear-splitting screams of the crowd. Hunter had to shield his face to keep the icy wind from stinging his eyes. Seconds later, as the lull in action encroached, he brought them down and peered out.

A massive, spiked cloud of steely ice—an explosion frozen at the height of its expansion—surrounded the two Magus. Or what he believed to be them. The Frost Giant's ice was different from all before, and impossible to see through.

Hunter's eyes shifted to Karic, who seemed to be on his last leg, if his limp accounted for anything. Twigs, dirt, dust, and debris riddled the Legend's once pristine armor. The impudence that dressed his face had long since given way to terror and anger. The stadium was silent as he stood straight, as if in fear of tempting the fury etched into his eyes.

Jordan, however, didn't care. She kept her focus on the frozen explosion, unblinking. Hunter parted his mouth to question her, but the moment he did, a sharp crack severed the quiet.

Tendril-like roots burst from within the ice, thrashing and snaking before locking themselves in the earth. The colossal trunk of an oak tree sprouted from the highest point, crumbling the ice around it and spreading leaved branches in evergreen majesty. Those same leaves shimmered with emerald luminescence and cast it in a large radius while they sang with all the splendor of creation.

As quickly as it climbed, it retracted, smashing the remaining ice before leaving another calm in its wake. Crunching footsteps filled the gap after a few moments, and every eye watched as Sean emerged while carrying Morgan's transfixed body, both bathed in the same green light and encircled by Spirit Armor.

In the stunned silence of their appearance, Morgan cracked a weak smile. "Hmph. Duke Chase is colder than that."

Karic stuttered out the question on the entire stadium's minds. "H-H-How…How!? _Rebirth_!? That's impossible! There's no way you could have…" Hunter's eyes widened, just as the Thaumaturge came to his realization, and hissed. "Treasure cards."

Sean's grins always seemed to answer his questions, but this one was different. The others mocked him from below, like the lone conniver biding his time to challenge the throne. But never like this.

A hunter gazing down at trapped prey.

"I will not be defeated by _Magus_ _scum_ like you! You will bow your heads and beg for mercy! Do you hear me!?"

His frenzy was like nothing they'd seen before. Sean wondered if he'd pushed too many buttons, as one last golden pip flared into existence around the Thaumaturge. Even in his mindless rage, his ice symbol traced perfectly. When it finished, his every last pip imploded.

It was strange how a single pip cost above the frost giant could craft such an awe-inspiring creature. Time seemed to freeze as the Pegasus descended on wings that made Morgan's ivory robes black in comparison. The shadow cast by the rider's hood resembled like a bottomless hole, and all that was frozen in existence churned in his lantern.

The Frost Giant's presence had made Hunter shiver, but this… His breath was freezing before it climbed his windpipe.

Sean readjusted Morgan's paralyzed body. That rebirth had been a stroke of luck, its spellsign finishing just before the Giant's stun took hold. And that stun didn't seem to be fading as quickly as the Freeze had. He gazed out at the Snow Angel, put off by its power but not undaunted. They both had a fair amount of vitality, a fresh spirit armor, and the attack wasn't even bladed.

And as if to intentionally break his confidence, a white burst of raw, magical energy surrounded Karic at the peak of his rage.

The angel bared its lantern, and a roiling river of arctic wind pushed through the air towards Sean and Morgan. Had it been a normal angel, Sean may have avoided it even while carrying the girl's body with his wounded forearm. But critical spells were a tier of their own, and its doubled speed crashed into them, leaving sonic booms in its wake.

Karic dropped to a knee after the angel finished its onslaught, glancing back at its summoner before fading away in particles on a passing breeze. The Legend watched Sean climb to his feet. The wind had melted off the majority of his armor. Tattered chainmail clung to his skin by freezing blood. Morgan's clothing lost its sleeves and hood, and the looser articles tattered.

Ice began to scale both their legs like a creeping virus.

"Can you find triage?" Sean's eyes softened at her silence. He set her down gently, then arched his sword back to sever his cape, tossing it over her body. "I'll finish it then. Cover me."

She nodded, and began her final life symbols. Sean bounded from atop the ice, breaking into a run. Life symbol after life symbol burned through her remaining pips, and produced multiple fairies that zoomed to catch Sean's speed, granting pulses of rejuvenating light before flying off. The first tick almost knocked Morgan out and caused Sean to stumble after shattering their spirit armors. He quickly threw up his sole Thermic Shield for the next.

Fear claimed Karic's face as Sean sprinted, frosted hookblade leading the rush. The large patches of ice didn't help his stride, and the Diviner was beginning to regret his previous earthquake, if only for the splintered ground he now had to traverse.

He found some use in it, though, as the Thaumaturge watched him dive into a trench to avoid a defensive blizzard. The Legend cursed under his breath, raising his final tower shield. He hadn't packed many, and virtually no healing. He'd never had to against magus before. But there was hope for him yet. The Snow Angel's influence was still active. If he could just hold him off long enough—

A spinning cylinder of wind tore up from within the trench, spewing a large creature that skid to a halt. It didn't waste a second. Scaled, purple arms reached for the sky, gathering surging electricity into a spear of lightning. The Kraken's solid white eyes found Karic, and let the bolt fly with a roar.

Karic's tower kept the blast from blowing him away, but the lightning still coaxed an excruciating scream. Still, he held his ground as it surged through his every cell and nerve, and his eyes rolled back in his head. An impulsive sweep of his arms cleared away the excess streamers, and in a haze bordering on unconsciousness, he spun around.

Sean vaulted from the trench, opposite the Kraken. The angel's second tick ate the ice shield, and he knew instinctively that Morgan didn't survive it.

Karic brought his hand up to draw a symbol. Any symbol at all. But he had only a single pip left. Everything in his hand would need more.

Droplets of blood marked Sean's trail. His steps were heavy, and he had no strength, but he would finish this. For Morgan. For the kingdom.

The sword lanced forward.

Karic's bracers came up into a cross block, shielding his eyes.

Then, only silence. Moments into seconds, and seconds beyond. Every last thing in the arena had stopped, no movement, no breath. Karic lowered his guard.

To stare into Sean's blade, halted an inch from his neck. The Diviner's body was frozen mid-step, arms and legs quivering at times in complete exhaustion. How he was still standing at all was anyone's guess, but the Thaumaturge didn't care. That last tick had made it in time. He survived.

He won.

The Legend's maniacal laugh echoed through the stadium, and clenched fists shot into the air in triumph as both tournament officials and referee blew on their whistles. Hunter deflated, though he didn't show it past sinking his head into his hands. Many in the stadium cheered, but a noticeable few remained as quiet as Jordan.

Karic returned from his victorious high to look upon his conquest again. To relish in the anguish on his face before the medics and Tourney Officials came to wrap the match up.

Instead, he followed Sean's outstretched arm to his face. Grinning like a madman.

The Legend grimaced. "Even now, you don't accept your defeat. This is why you are trash."

"Oh, but it's just begun, Karic."

Before the Thaumaturge could respond, one of the officials assisted Morgan to the arena's center. The other, Alex Lifewraith, helped Sean after the medics took over with Karic's partner, if he could even be called that. Alex set to work on dressing the more prominent injuries with fairies, his face displaying everything his position banned him from saying, and Sean and Morgan nodded their thanks.

But when Sean reached a stable state, Alex pulled out a star-capped wand and spoke into it. His voice projected from multiple points across the arena. "Is there anything you'd like to say?"

Hunter found that odd. Officials carried voice amplifiers to make calls, but rarely allowed a dueler to use one. Not against any rules, but strange.

Sean's head rose, and his face was solemn and serious. "My name is Sean Starbright. If all you saw just now was a win and a loss, then what I'm about to say is not for you. This is for those who saw the _potential_ to win. Those that are tired of bowing at _their_ heels every time you enter this arena. And those that will fight to the ends of the spiral to take this arena back."

He forced himself to a stand, glancing around. The other official restrained Karic from assaulting Sean. Sean's eyes fell on Hunter's section, and the pyromancer could swear they were directed right at him. "You saw it yourself. We have the tools, and we have the will. You don't have to fear them anymore. Stand, and take your arena back."

Morgan joined him, using her arcane staff as ballast. At first, no one responded, and the nothingness stretched on for what seemed a minute. But just as Karic opened his mouth, the most unlikely thing happened.

Hunter wasn't sure what propelled him to stand, or why, but he stuck out a waist above the crowd, knees locked in place to prevent him from turning back. Sean seemed to notice him, and Hunter could only imagine his devilish grin.

"And I thought I was going to have to drag you up." Jordan whispered as she mirrored him. Hunter didn't doubt that threat in the least, but he was more concerned with the chain reaction they'd apparently set off.

There weren't many, perhaps not even a dozen out of the four hundred plus. Lucas Legendblade, Elijah Hawktalon, and others too far away to pick out. But they were there, standing undaunted amidst the sea of color around them.

Hunter paid no attention to the legion of stares. He was much too caught up in the moment, his quivering legs hiding under the loose fabric of his pants. Perhaps he was the only terrified one, but only because he knew the trouble that was in store for them.

For that banner was more than just propaganda. The bunny skit was more than harmless fun on Karic's behalf. The match was more than victory or defeat. And this was more than a defiant demonstration.

This was a declaration of war.


End file.
